Ink in MY Blood

I’ve always loved ink and carving linoleum blocks. Even three visits to the emergency room, one that involved stitching the tendon in my thumb back together never got in the way of this love. Right now, managing PRESS, teaching and other work sometimes takes priority over nurturing that love of the knife against lino or wood, but it’s still there.

My dad recently sent me this wonderful picture of him as a young man entering the PRINTERY at St. Bonaventure Preparatory School in Wisconsin. While that school no longer holds classes or prints flyers, my dad has really great memories of printing on a machine similar to the one at PRESS. He recently visited PRESS for the FLY BY opening and had the chance to check out the Vandercook in action. I couldn’t quite convince him to get his hands inky, but the spirit is there, the love of the ink, that flows through the blood and gets passed onto other generations.

PRESS amazes me daily. I am delighted by the thrill that it gives so many people, and for the continued support we get for the work we do.

But I am most grateful to my parents, for the creative energy they have passed to me,  and giving me the courage and the strength to do what to many others seemed crazy, and to keep doing this daily. Thank you–without you and this ink in MY blood, I wouldn’t be here.

BTW–the date of this posting, October 29th, is the day that I entered this world. And can you believe it, the Vandercook Uni III at PRESS and I are the same age?

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